Not So Unlucky After All
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: Luck had never been on his side. So, maybe he would make some.


**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize belongs to the incomparable J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Season Seven – Semi Finals**

**Captain for the Tutshill Tornados**

**Semi-Finals**

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**It's a Classic**

I don't know about y'all, but my AP English teachers pushed the classics like they were the keys to life. I spent years reading, analyzing passages, seeking meaning, etc, etc, etc. And so, for this round, we will be revisiting some of my favorites. Each position will receive a key point from a classic novel as to use in your story.

**Captain, The Old Man and the Sea: A character refuses to give up, despite a streak of bad luck**

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Word Count: 1182

Thanks my team for betaing

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Not So Unlucky After All

Zygmunt was cursed, he was sure of it. That had to be the only possible explanation for his lot in life. He was certain that the only moment of luck he had been graced with was being born to the parents he had.

Considering how many of his pureblood friends fared with their lot in life, he had been blessed with caring parents. Then again, the fact that they had been considerably older than usual when they had him, might have contributed to that fact.

Aside from that though, Zygmunt couldn't recall any moment in his life where he could be considered lucky.

He had been unlucky enough to get sorted into Gryffindor when all his family before him had been in Ravenclaw. Then, the very first time he had played for the Quidditch team, he'd taken a bludger front and center to his head three minutes into the game, and his Captain had picked a replacement for him on the spot, thus ending his Quidditch career before it could truly begin.

However, the very worst part of his Hogwarts life had without a doubt been his potions classes. His mother—even if some said she was biased—claimed he was one of the best portioneers she had ever seen, and considering that she had been a Potions Mistress before settling down and having a family, that was saying something. And yet, every time he walked into the classroom, it was as if he couldn't remember the difference between chopping and dicing, much less what ingredients did what. It also didn't help that for some reason, every time Professor Everett asked him a question, he wasn't able to answer in coherent sentences. He would stutter and stumble his way through, barely forming English words, and blush like some maiden when faced with their betrothed. Zygmunt was certain someone had been pranking him all seven years. It was the only logical explanation.

Still, he was out of Hogwarts now, and his luck didn't seem to be improving in any way.

Just this morning he had been woken bright and early by a hysterical house-elf. At first, he had assumed that little Dotty was being her usual house-elf self; it turned out he was wrong. Apparently, Miss Lindsay had arrived with her chaperon and had been attacked by his Venomous Tentacula. He had jumped out of bed, rushed downstairs, and been able to rescue both Miss Lindsay and her chaperon.

Supposedly, all was well that ended well.

Zygmunt sighed and slumped in his seat. He was certain mother wouldn't be happy with him for losing yet another betrothed.

Four in three years.

He winced; he could already hear the newest gossip. No, his mother wouldn't be pleased.

"There, there, Master." Dotty patted his head.

He turned his head and smiled at his house-elf. "Thanks, Dotty." He got up, stretching a little. "Well, nothing for it. I must go face Mother." He turned grave eyes towards Dotty. "Wish me luck."

Dotty looked at him solemnly. "Master is be needing it," she said, nodding her head and making her big ears flap back and forth.

Zygmunt barked out a laugh and grinned at her. He so loved those cheeky, little creatures.

—

Zygmunt cursed, earning several disapproving looks from passersby, as he once again tripped over thin air.

This was getting utterly ridiculous.

Had he been born under some unlucky star? Had he been cursed with bad luck? He grumbled under his breath all the way home, stomping up the stairs. He ignored Dotty's sigh as she saw his appearance. What a sight he must make, all ruffled with a tattered cloak covering his drenched clothes.

She snapped her fingers, and in a heartbeat, he was neat once more, not a hair out of place.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Thank you, Dotty."

Dotty shook her head. "Such strange Master Dotty has. Master not even using wand to dry clothes."

Zygmunt blushed, looking away from the almost scolding look. "I… I forgot."

Dotty shook her head once more and popped away.

Zygmunt turned around and made his way to his laboratory instead of his room as he had been intending.

He closed the door behind him and relaxed. There was just something that brought peace to his mind and magic when he was in his laboratory.

Potions, unlike everything else in his life, made sense.

There was no luck or bad luck involved in potion-making. It was all about precision and logic. It was one of the few things that made sense in his life and didn't blow up in his face for seemingly no reason.

He froze as he was reaching for a copper cauldron.

He had always been unlucky. For reasons completely beyond logic, he had been haunted by bad luck since he could understand the concept. From simple things like losing a galleon here and there, to bigger things like losing yet another betrothed because she had been sprayed by his Mimbulus Mimbletonia when he had been harvesting its Stinksnap—how was he meant to know that she had been about to turn the corner right at that moment?

Still, the fact remained, bad luck was something that haunted his every step. Except, it seemed, when he was creating potions.

Was that the answer?

Could he counter his bad luck with potions?

Potions could do anything. Why not give him a little bit of luck?

Nodding to himself, he reached for the golden cauldron, searching his shelves for several different ingredients.

Maybe, a little liquid luck was all he needed.

—

Zygmunt grinned at the merrily splashing, molten gold potion in his cauldron. It had taken him years, and several utterly failed attempts, but he had done it. This was it; he was sure of it.

"Dotty!" he called, fingers twitching.

"Master?" she asked, as soon as she popped into his laboratory.

"I need you to follow me, invisible to all. I need you to interfere if you see that I might hurt myself or others, alright?"

Dotty frowned at him. "Master is testing new potions on Master again. Dotty maybe be telling Master's Mother."

Zygmunt's eyes widened. "Please, don't. I'm a grown man; I don't need my Mother's supervision."

Dotty sniffed, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. "Dotty won't. But Dotty thinks Master is being silly. Master is risking Master with new potions, and Dotty not liking it at all. But Dotty be good house-elf, so Dotty watch Master and make sure he safe."

Zygmunt smiled at her and patted her white fluffy hair. "Thank you, Dotty." He scooped up a mouthful of the potion and held it up to drink. "You know, Dotty, out of all the bad luck I've had throughout my life, I sure as hell was lucky when I got you, you know that, right?"

Dotty smiled at him. "Dotty's be lucky to have such a great Master. Now drink up, Master. Dotty be watching over you."

As Zygmunt drank down his potion, he couldn't help but think that he was pretty lucky after all.


End file.
